RodF has also given his final approval to this Web site. The link is to the pages holding the personal journals of Joseph O'Neils 1885 and 1890 trips into the Olympics. Interesting reading. The journal was copied as written with O'Neils unique spelling of some words. The part about the Marmot was interesting.

Brilliant, thanks to all who made this happen! I really like Fisher's map... don't recall seeing that before.

I've always enjoyed the story of them taking the wrong trail to Cushman and his wry account is priceless:

"The trail had been entirely misrepresented and was very difficult to travel; the almost perpendicular hills, heavy windfalls, miry swales, and to add to this the freshness of the mules, newness of the ropes and aparejos causing the packs to constantly slip, rendered this day's march about the most difficult of the entire trip. The party ahead had been almost worn out in trying to clear the way. To add to the disagreeable features of the day, heavy rain began in the morning and conscientiously followed us the entire day. About 9 o'clock that night camp was pitched in a swamp, as it was too dark to proceed any farther. Owing to the constant slipping of the packs, the falling of the mules, and heaviness of the trail, we had made about 2 1/2 miles this afternoon."

I'm also liking this excerpt:

"Some five or six years ago a man named Rose squatted on the quarter section on the edge of the lake, and made for himself a beautiful home. Others have followed, and there is now no section of land not take up or squatted on within 3 miles of the lake, or between the lake and Hoods Canal. "

I'm still perplexed about what they did around Jumbo's Leap / Five Stream, and why.

I'm still perplexed about what they did around Jumbo's Leap / Five Stream, and why.

The account of O'Neil expedition member Harry Fisher sheds more light on this.

Harry Fisher wrote:

Weds July 16th... Upon examination, we find the S. branch [Five Stream] to be a continuous canyon 80 ft deep and 100 ft wide, at whose bottom the waters rush madly. No foot log to be found. We all-most dispair of making camp of making [it back to] camp that night, when we find a tree where the streams [Five Stream and North Fork Skokomish] meet, growing up from below, and whose top branch lap out over the crest. Ascertaining that our packs will lodge safely (by dropping stones) we heave them into the dark abyss. With the dog between us, we descend from limb to limb, gaining the bottom... Here we crossed with much difficulty and ascended the opposite bank pretty much as we had come down...

Thurs July 17th... They had crossed the south branch by climbing down the tree and poor Jumbo, too large to handle, was left at the top to howl in his loneliness. With one wild leap he shot through the air and down into the mad waters. How and where he ascended the opposite side, no one knew, but the south branch was hence forth known as Jumbosleap, in honor of his daring skill as a mountaineer...

Sat July 19th... A bridge was now begun, to cross Jumbo's Leap near its mouth. Tree after tree was fallen across it, until timber grew scarce near the chasm, and one log only had lodged. Notwithstanding they were 2 to 5 feet through they had snapped in twain like reeds, only to disappear into the canyon.

Wedns July 23rd... We had now cut all of the available timber along Jumbo's Leap only to see it snap in two and disappear into the chasm. We had succeeded in falling one large fir that answered for a foot log and studied various plans to utilize it, but in vain. Disheartened with the out look I sought consolation in the quiet forest, and the pipe. Following up the stream a mile or so from its mouth I discovered a point where I could descend into the canyon by swinging boughs. Here was a water fall of some 50 feet, and above it the walls were lower, rising at an angle of 45 deg and of polished stone. We could bridge this, and build approaches inclining or in other words cordoroi the rocky walls, for our mules could now climb like Billy goats.

See the rest of the story in Carsten Lien, "Exploring the Olympic Mountains: Accounts of the Earliest Expeditions 1868 to 1890", Mountaineers Books, 2001, pages 385-390. Harry Fisher was a pseudonym, under which he had re-enlisted, after being court-marshalled and dishonorably discharged for drunkenness under his true name, James B. Hanmore. But he provides us with the most articulate, detailed and humorous account of O'Neil's expedition.

--------------"of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt" - John Muir
"the wild is not the opposite of cultivated. It is the opposite of the captivated” - Vandana Shiva

The account of O'Neil expedition member Harry Fisher sheds more light on this.

Well, I've read that and all the stuff in Carsten's book and more. The thing that puzzles me is, why fuss with the raging waters at the place where 5 stream meets the North Fork Skok stream, when no more than a mile up 5 stream one can pretty much walk across.

Phil, it's been a few years since I bushwacked that area. Your picture looks like the Four stream crossing. The next crossing was up at 6 stream. Hummm of course, I could be wrong. I recall the canyon being deep and not passible. rick

The pic is definitely the 5 stream crossing. You amble across the log in the pic. True 5 stream canyon is deep and steep as it joins the Skok, just as the O'neil people described it, but .5 - 1 mile upstream it is as shown on the pic. This is why I'm puzzled as to why they focused on the canyon, dropping trees trying to bridge the gap, etc., with all their scouting of the vicinity I would have thought the nearby and easy crossing would have been selected for the mule train route.

Phil, enjoyed reading your post from 2003. You're right! I confused the 5 stream crossing with a lower crossing of the Skok.

It's interesting tome how well I can remember small details of a mountain trip. I spent the night not far from the 5 stream crossing. I was pooped after bushwhacking down 5 stream. It's was a warm summer eve. I was too tired to put up a fly. Just slept under the stars, that night. rick

It's interesting to me how well I can remember small details of a mountain trip. I spent the night not far from the 5 stream crossing. I was pooped after bushwhacking down 5 stream. It's was a warm summer eve. I was too tired to put up a fly. Just slept under the stars, that night

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